10. The clock does not apply to me. When a race begins, the clock starts ticking. Competitors must cross the finish line before the clock strikes the final moment. In fact, the runners must arrive at designated aid stations within a fixed time limit lest they be forced to stop. Following the last runner often makes me late as well. But do I stop? Nope. My task is to find and follow the new last runner. Being late is A-OK.
9. The birds chirp louder. Because I run alone sans the chatter so common among runners, the hour following the break of dawn fills with a cacophony of ornithopic song. I am left to wonder what they are saying as one group antiphonally answers another. I almost feel selfish enjoying the private concert.
7. The flowers are prettier and the streams more picturesque. I know intellectually that the flowers and cascading streams are not dependent on who views them. But it seems to me that the petals are brighter and the waterfalls more spectacular, putting on a show for those who are slow enough to notice.
5. Experience is gained as a collector of trail trash. Actually, ultrarunners are very good about not dropping a lot of trash as they scamper along forested trail. However, one only truly appreciates how well-marked a course is when tasked with taking down all those streamers, many of which have become hopelessly entangled among the branches. Thousands--literally--of streamers need to by freed one-by-one from the branches, being careful not to leave the knot. Once in my hand, the game becomes "How many can I stuff in the pockets of my shorts before resorting to the trash bag I carry in my pack?"
3. Pee with confidence. With the last runner ahead and no one behind, there is no need to hesitate when nature calls. This is reason to celebrate!
1. Sweeping reinforces the idea of persistent patience. There is no doubt that sweeping is a way to serve the ultrarunning community. To hand the race director a course that requires no attention in the aftermath is a gift offered to help ease the mountainous responsibilities carried on the RD's shoulders. But as the sweep, I must accept the fact that I will be out there hours longer than it would take to race the course. I will run outside of the competitors' circle. And yet, those hours spent alone are both instructive and special.
I think about the hundreds of feet that trod the path before me. Some sped along the course, like the top four men whom I intersected as I was at mile 14 and they were approaching 29 on the way to the finish. While mind-blowing, the truth of a 15-mile gap demanded a reasoned persistence in getting comfortable with the required hours ahead; to contemplate my own struggle and doubts for future racing, to miss the camaraderie of those who triumphed in personal achievement at the finish, to view the nearly empty campground marking the finish when I finally arrived, with nothing left to hint at the glorious finishes with equipment and trash bags packed tightly into the beds of pick-up trucks.
In retrospect, it was Mission Accomplished. I was dead last, spending a long and hot 11 hours and 11 minutes along the rocky, steep and challenging trail. And, I would do it again in a heartbeat.